Death In Twelve Acts
by SilverInkblot
Summary: Act VI: Target Practice - On the bright side, he didn't have to listen to Axel calling him 'The Peashooter' anymore. . .
1. Probable Cause

_So, the wonderful Ajac has brought me to the fascinating universe of Discworld. I've read about a dozen books of the series since starting college, and it's high time I contributed to a new fanfic domain. I've been assured that I kept everyone in character, but I'm open to a second opinion._

* * *

Picture a scene on the edge of probability. Red, black, red, black, red. All random. All predetermined. Kings and queens rise and fall and their empires with them, for it only takes but a nail, a moment, to make the numbers change – the future will modify itself to match the given conditions, for all futures are equally plausible on the roulette wheel. The King of Diamonds has no prevalence over the King of Spades, nor over the cat in the box pawing at string theory, nor the Fool who rationalizes himself into believing quantum immortality is actually attainable (but he know better than **that** of course). Chance has but two laws; everything that is, was. Everything that was, will be again. Sooner or later the deck runs out of cards. Sooner or later someone (not him; not anymore) starts a new game. And sooner or later the best meet their match.

"Full house. Three tens, two sevens."

ROYAL FLUSH

". . . Two out of three?" Luxord's voice was weak.

I'M SORRY. ONLY ONE GAME. THOSE ARE THE RULES SET BEFORE ME.

"Yes. Thought I'd try anyway."

WHY?

". . . . what?"

THE DECK WAS STACKED AGAINST YOU FROM THE BEGINNING. YET YOU ATTEMPTED TO DEFY THE ODDS NONETHELESS. WHY?

Luxord thought silently for a few moments, the deck in his hands making a _snap_ sound every time he finished shuffling.

"Habit I suppose. You get used to living. You don't want to give it up. Just like you get used to existing. In any case, there was nothing to lose by a friendly game with Death."

I SEE.

"Do you?"

NO. NOT REALLY. HUMANS ARE DIFFICULT. THEY WANT TO FIGHT AGAINST THEIR FATE. WHAT THEY FAIL TO REALIZE IS THAT IT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED BEFORE, A MILLION TIMES OVER. YOU WOULD THINK THEY GET USED TO IT.

"Well. Right then," he was slipping away, closer and closer to that edge where probability became history. "I guess this is goodbye."

YES.

_Redblackredblackredblackredblack_

"Goodbye Mr. Death."

GOODBYE MR. LUXORD.

_**black**_

* * *

_Death is the best isn't he? How can you not love him? I can't promise the following chapters will be as good as I feel this one was, but I do promise to give it a try._

_Something else . . . ah yes. The disclaimer. Well, you know how it goes, right?_


	2. Fade to Black

Xaldin looked down at his body, slowly dissipating into inky black smoke and then over to the dark figure looming nearby, scythe in hand.

"I – I don't understand;" refusing to relinquish scientific curiosity for a single moment (the cat's already dead after all). "I don't even exist!"

The figure in black robes nodded once, silently, deliberately, and spoke in the same somber mannerisms.

YOU DID ONCE.

Xaldin could no longer sense the invisible trappings he had laid about his mind, tying him to the physical world, attempting to replace emptiness with substance. He faked a smile.

"Well. That's true enough I guess," and surrendered himself to permanent non-existence.

* * *

_Well, they don't all have to be long. Death is famous in Discworld canon for getting all the best one-liners. XD_


	3. Phoenix Rising

Death was a part of the natural cycle. But not the end. Marluxia knew this. The remains of the formerly living brought new life forth, their final gift to the world. The dead nourished the soil and the soil nourished the plants. Death was life.

THIS IS MOST UNPRESSIDENTED.

Marluxia crossed his arms. "Aren't I allowed a last request?"

ONLY THE LIVING MAY RECEIVE A DYING WISH. IT DIES WITH THEM. ALL OTHER THINGS MUST BE LEFT BEHIND. THERE ARE RULES.

Marluxia glanced down at his own unnervingly still body, black robes splayed on the ground like an ink stain on the white tiles.

SOMETHING CANNOT GROW FROM NOTHING. I AM SORRY.

Marluxia clenched his fist; the tightness of his grip would have made the leather creak with tension had there been any substance left to strain.

"I understand."

ARE YOU ANGRY?

"At you? No. No hard feelings. Anyone who carries a scythe can't be all bad."

THANK YOU.

The threads of his coat evaporated slowly into a grey haze as Marluxia slipped out of consciousness, leaving not so much as a trace on the pallid floor. Death turned to finish his job, sweeping away the last vestiges of life his latest client had left behind in the form of roses. He lingered a moment more before stooping to pick up on of the flowers and lying it on the nearest pedestal the way he had sometimes seen humans do for their dead.

A hundred years later the petals were still as red as the day they blossomed.

* * *

_I always have such fun writing for Marluxia. I need to do it more often._

_This chapter was planned to be more humorous; I thought Death and Marluxia would hit it off nicely. Since they both carry a scythe and all. o_O Oh well. Maybe another time._

_-SilverInkblot_


	4. Sans Everything

Moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colored shadows on the white floor where Saix met his end. He could see his own body lying lifelessly on the floor. Another figure in black stood nearby, watching in thoughtful silence. Saix looked at his almost-transparent hands, or would have, but his eyesight was failing as well. He wasn't sure how he was standing up since his lower half was almost gone.

"Out of sight, out of mind. . . ."

OUT OF TIME.

"Yes," his voice was a distant echo. "Yes of course," and he was gone.

* * *

_Yeah. Another one - liner. I don't really like this chapter much. But Axel is up next, so I'll have a little fun there._


	5. Ashes to Ashes

They were one of those families that saw funerals as another family reunion, or, more accurately, an excuse to have a large home cooked meal after the ceremonies were over. One less family member meant more mashed potatoes to go around unless it was Aunt June who kicked the bucket this time. Death just meant you could now safely laugh at your relatives without fear of retribution. Or dying yourself. But most importantly, the will was already written, and spirits have notoriously bad penmanship and a lack of witnesses. In this family, wisecracking tomfoolery was a crucial step in the mourning process.

_"Alice, pull your hair out of your eyes. We want to look nice now don't we? Here Ben, let's fix your tie. Don't forget the camera now dear, it's our last chance to take pictures with Grandma."_

You know the sort. It's little wonder Axel took to death the way he did.

"So do I get to see all my relatives again?"

NO.

"Awesome."

YOU ARE TAKING THE NEWS REMARKABLY WELL.

"How would you take it? With cream and two sugars?"

Bodies fade. Sarcasm and snarkiness are forever.

NO. BUT I'M SURE BINKY WOULD LIKE ANY SUGAR YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE ON YOUR PERSON.

Axel looked over at Death's white horse Binky snuffling about nearby.

"It's a real horse?"

OF COURSE.

"It's just I thought Death was supposed to be more intimidating and all."

Death looked appalled, or as appalled as a skeleton could look.

I PERFORM A PUBLIC SERVICE. DO YOU FIND THE LOCAL GARBAGEMAN INTIMIDATING AS WELL?

". . . .what are you implying exactly?"

NOTHING YOU DON'T SECRETLY AGREE WITH.

Axel was laughing as he faded away.

"I like you Mr. Reaper. If I'd known death was like this, I'd have come sooner."

I'M SURE YOU WOULD HAVE agreed Death as Axel laughed his was to oblivion.

* * *

_Disclaimer: YES._

_I like this chapter. I had fun writing it and hope you had fun reading it._


	6. Target Practice

_Ready._

"Dude. . . ." Xigbar groaned. "What happened?" His surfer accent was heavier than normal.

YOUR NECEESARY BODILY FUNCTIONS HAVE CEASED TO OPERATE. TO RELATE THIS TO YOUR UNDERSTANDING. . . . Death paused for a minute to find the right words. DUDE, YOU GOT TOTALLY WASTED.

Death was as impartial as gravity, but he did try.

_Aim._

"What? By that **kid**? That kid who couldn't hit a stationary Beserker if he had an AK-47?"

Death didn't understand the terminology, but he nodded anyway.

YES. THAT'S THE ONE, and he raised his scythe high . . . .

_Fire._

* * *

_Yep. Another short one. I'm kinda fond of it though. The thought of Death saying "dude" just cracks me up._

_Sorry for the wait - it's finals week._

_*Insert disclaimer here*_

_-SilverInkblot_


End file.
